


I Need an Old Priest and a Young Priest

by howsyasister



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Blow Jobs, Incubus!Roman, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 16:30:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3141152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howsyasister/pseuds/howsyasister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roman's got a bad case of midnight munchies, and Seth's already told him off, leaving an equally tired Dean to handle the situation. Sometimes, it's hell having a demon boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Need an Old Priest and a Young Priest

**Author's Note:**

> Started for AJ, because he's an absolute wonder. Finished for Rae and Team Pretty Spooky Boys.

Dean rumbles quietly when he feels his mattress shift. He feels the heat of Roman before the weight of him, and if a late night visit wasn't telling of his intentions, the way warmth seeps into the blankets and mattress and Dean's very core before Roman can even lay hands on him says that he's in for a long night. 

It's hell having a demon boyfriend. 

"You up?" Roman whispers. 

"I am now, you fucking furnace."

"Sorry." There is not an ounce of remorse in the lying bastard's voice. He presses a kiss to Dean's cheek, and somehow even that feels scandalous, with the way his nose brushes Dean's cheek before impact and his lips aren't quite closed all the way. It's cheating. A kiss on the cheek has no business being sensual and Dean is just exhausted enough to actually be a bit miffed about it. 

"Don't you have other buffets to snack on?" Despite himself, Dean threads a hand in Roman's hair as those damned, sinful lips start to sneak toward his neck. 

"Seth kicked me out of his bed already." Roman lacks the decency to take his mouth off of Dean when he speaks, and the barely-there flick of tongue and firm brush of lips has Dean nearly squirming. 

“I was almost asleep.”

“But you weren’t actually sleeping yet. You know how good you’re gonna sleep if you just let me…” Roman trails a hand down Dean’s chest and it sears so good the whole way down to his navel, where it hesitates. Frustration boils up in Dean’s chest and he isn’t sure if he should be arching into or away from the almost burning touch low on his stomach. He settles on slapping Roman’s hand away with a growl, saving himself from having to make a decision either way. 

“Or you could just let me roll over and relax. I don’t even want to know what time it is right now.”

“It’s early enough-”

“Any time is gonna be ‘early enough’ for you, ya cockmongler.” Dean admittedly isn’t expecting it when Roman withdraws, despite it being exactly what he was asking for. He’s outright cold now, a shiver running down his spine as Roman hops off the side of his bed. He’s startled, immediately flooding with concern that he’s upset Roman now. Snatching blindly in the dark, he grabs for his boyfriend’s hand. “Hey, man, wait-”

“Nah, you’re right. I’m being selfish. I gotta let my boys get their rest, yeah?” Roman tries to keep his voice wry, but the guilt stains deeper than red wine. Dean often forgets that, as fun as it can be, having a literal sex demon for a boyfriend, said boyfriend doesn’t always enjoy being a sex demon. More than once, they’ve talked about how, if Roman could, he’d much rather just live off of human food. There’s less dependence and he’d feel less skeevy about it. Heaving a sigh, Dean reels Roman back into bed, tugging hard on his arm until he falls, upper body flopped over Dean’s lap.

“You’re fine. You’re hungry. I’m just mad I wasn’t sleeping yet.... Let’s help each other out.” Dean can’t quite make out Roman’s face in the thick, velvety darkness of the room, but he swears Roman’s eyes literally light up, an otherwordly glow flashing from them for just a second. Dean is pretty sure he might have fallen prey to a bit of Roman’s power of persuasion, but as Roman climbs over him and he can feel the heat off of his body seeping into his skin, he doesn’t give a damn. 

“You’re so good to me, killer.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a regular angel.”

“If you were an angel, I wouldn’t be able to do this.” Roman’s mouth is suddenly at Dean’s pulse and his lips have the thrillburn of hot wax. Dean hisses through his teeth, already feeling a bit dizzy, as Roman’s hand starts to trail down his chest and stomach again, leaving waves of need in its wake, until it slips into his boxers and wraps firmly around his cock. 

“Wh-what, no foreplay?” Dean tries to tease as he rather desperately rolls his hips up into Roman’s hand. A soft snort is the only audible reply he gets as he's slowly and firmly stroked. To call it a slice of heaven feels wrong, but it sure feels pretty damned good. 

He flops back onto the pillow, not surprised when Roman follows. One hand loops over his boyfriend’s bare back and he digs fingers into toned flesh. The reply is a growl that Dean more feels than hears, sending thrills up his spine as Roman starts to kiss a steady line down his chest and stomach. That wonderful hand doesn't stop, and finally a proper grin is coaxed onto Dean's face as Roman's lips reach his waist. One hand still tangled in his boyfriend's hair, Dean pets at his scalp, trying to urge without pushing. Not that Roman needs encouraging. 

A pleasant ball of tension winds itself up in Dean's stomach as Roman tugs his underwear off his hips and peppers more scorching little kisses. Dean feels the threat of teeth on the thin skin of the flat of his lower stomach as Roman's hand slows to an exaggeratedly meticulous stroke, and it's sinful torture. He’s doing his level best not to squirm, but the heat of Roman’s touch and mouth are starting to seep upward and it’s just about oppressive. A chuckle bubbles out of him at just how damned warm his face feels and his knees hitch and his fingers curl in Roman’s hair. It’s getting harder to catch his breath, and the vaguely burning ache running through him just makes it feel like he’s finished up some satisfying scrap in a park in the dead of July, all satisfied and huffing to catch his breath.

The easy pleasantness disappears abruptly when the flat of Roman’s tongue drags up the underside of his cock, all slow and sweet, and forcibly yanks an embarrassing, “ffahh-!” sound out of him. Dean sucks in a wheezy breath and wills his back to uncurl onto the mattress again as his asshole demon boyfriend chuckles between his legs. 

“No worries, baby. I got you.” Dean hardly needed the reassurance, but it’s music in his ears, right before Roman wraps those lips around the head of his cock for a kiss about as filthy as any he can manage on Dean’s lips. The muscles on the small of his back jerk and bunch, trying to arch before he willfully flattens again. Another quiet laugh, and Roman’s dragging that damned tongue up his length again with a burn like whiskey that settles impatiently in Dean’s balls. It’s like fucking high school all over again, and Dean might just realize later that his boyfriend must have been really fucking hungry, but for now all he’s thinking about is if it’s okay to stop stifling the twitch in his hips yet. 

He isn’t ready for it when Roman slides his hand down to the base of Dean’s cock, flat against his stomach and supporting the length in the v between his thumb and forefinger, and starts to slide his lips down to meet it. It doesn’t happen all in one go- Dean is never that lucky. It’s the best kind of torture, as he’s slowly consumed by wet heat that numbs his mind almost entirely. Roman bobs his head with slow determination, always up far enough to let his lips rub over the flare of Dean’s head and down far enough to pass where he’d been last time. 

His mouth is just about to his hand when he has to exhale slowly through his nose and force his tongue down, and that’s when Dean can’t keep himself from arching up anymore. He’s lifted slowly, a groan winding out of him, until his weight is on his shoulder blades. Roman pushes a hand up his stomach, fingers feeling every bit like a loving torch run along the taut skin and following the flared curve of his ribs as far as he can reach. His nose brushes Dean’s stomach and it’s a wicked headrush. Getting both hands good and caught in Roman’s hair, he strokes his half-numb thumbs over Roman’s temples, too breathless to whisper the praise buzzing through his brain. The hand at the base of Dean’s dick abandons its post, sliding a bit further down to cup gently around his balls, and good Christ, Dean’s toes curl. 

Pulling back a bit, Roman starts to bob his head a bit faster. Dean feels like he might just be melting in his boyfriend’s mouth. The heat radiating from his chest is just about suffocating on his face, and it’s the nicest way to be burnt alive, he knows. An agonized moan that starts from somewhere below his navel looses itself into the humming, black air and if these late nights wind up actually costing him his soul to Roman, it’ll be well worth it for the way his tongue circles greedily for precum and his fingers tease Dean’s hole, while his palm is still massaging Dean’s balls downright lovingly. 

Dean is all shuddery, gaspy noises, hardly noticing Roman’s hand leaving his stomach in favor of wrapping around his own cock. He’s too far gone to notice that, but not so far that he doesn’t catch how Roman is getting a bit overeager, gagging every now and then as he tries to take Dean too deep too fast. His thighs jerk and his fingers tighten in Roman’s hair, unconsciously urging him further and further down, willing that truly infernal heat to just devour him. 

“Fuck, Ro. Like that. Fuckin’ close-” His warning is breathless, and hardly a courtesy with the way his hands threaten to yank Roman’s face to his hips, regardless, but the attempt is endearing. Roman’s hand speeds up, sloppy and urgent on his own dick, as he lets Dean tug him down, relaxing his throat as best he can despite a complaining gag reflex and lungs that are getting near empty. It’s worth it for the way Dean’s entire body jerks and the delicious feeling that washes over him as his boyfriend comes with a broken rasp of a whine. His own orgasm folds around him, almost lost in the lovely waves of a hunger sated as he comes over his hand, still swallowing Dean’s jizz with a sore and protesting throat. 

Roman manages not to cough as he pulls back, running his tongue just a few times up Dean’s now oversensitive length, just to make sure he didn’t miss anything. Wiping his hand on his boxers, he slips them off as he shifts to get up and head to his own bed, bracing himself to walk on jellied legs. Dean, meanwhile, oozes back onto the mattress in a perfectly contented puzzle. His every sense is fuzzy and soft and lovely and, despite feeling just about no strength through any of his limbs, he tries to coax Roman up.

“C’mere,” he sighs, groggy and gentle. “Don’t wanna be cold.” His body heat is rapidly dropping back to normal and the contrast is enough to almost have him shivering. The glow of Roman’s eyes has faded, but Dean is pretty sure he knows the way they’d soften at his exhausted insistence. 

“You got it, baby.” He drops his underwear off the side of the bed, crawling under the sheet with Dean and wrapping around him. 

In the morning, Seth is a bit jealous, and Dean and Roman are still a bit sleepy, but each is aware that it’s their own damned fault. It’s hell having a demon boyfriend, but the perks outweigh the downsides.


End file.
